Fifty Shades of Shade - "The Fifty Shades of Grey Parady" Read Online Free Page B

the Wealthman in exchange for credit in her little, tiny student newspaper. Makes sense to me.
                  When we get there we tell them that we are using the room to photograph Sebastian Shade, big-time CEO. Once they hear his name, the entire staff present tremble with erotic desire. They then upgrade us to the second-largest suite in the hotel. The largest is, of course, occupied by Mr. Shade himself. They offered him the entire hotel at first, begging for his mercy and grace. But he just told them he needed a single room. So, reluctantly, they gave him just that.
                  We are shown to the suite by an eager young marketing executive we just met who is already in love with Melissa. Halfway up the stairs he actually proposed to her. She said, “No.”
                  As soon as we got to the suite, Melissa started giving orders.
                  “Ramiro, I think we should shoot against this wall, don’t you think?”
                  “That’s the shower,” Ramiro points out.
                  Melissa starts organizing the shoot there anyway. While Ramiro begins moving all the stuff to an actual wall they can shoot in front of, Melissa continues the orders:
                  “Chad, clear the chairs and dust the legs on the end table. Chastity , could you tell housekeeping to get refreshments and install more ceiling fans? And tell Shade we are here.”
                  Whatever you sa y . She can be so bossy. I roll my eyes six times at her. After the resulting headache subsides I proceed to do as I’m told.
                  Half an hour later, Sebastian Shade walks in.
                  Holy craptoids! He’s wearing a white shirt, open at the collar. His chestflesh gleams with hotty hotness. His gray slacks hang from his hips and curtain his scrotum area perfectly. Somehow, a breeze comes through this totally enclosed room and hits only his hair, rustling it in a sexy way. Shade is followed into the suite by a mean-looking man in his mid-thirties with a buzzcut and a tattoo of Shade’s face on his own face. His face, as well as the face on his face, looks at us impassively.
                  “Miss Stool , we meet again.” Shade extends his hand and I shake it, rapidly, with both of my hands and feet. As I touch his skin I feel a current run through me. It lights up my innards like a Christmas nativity scene, except with slightly more sexual innuendo involved. I’m sure my heavy breathing and donkey-like noises are audible.
                  “Mr. Shade, this is Melissa McCallahan. ” She stops giving orders to a floor lamp and comes forward to meet him.
                  “The tenacious Miss McCallahan. Nice to finally meet you. I trust your terminal illness is gone?”
                  “It is, thank you, Mr. Shade.” She shakes his hand. I can tell by Melissa’s ability to shake a hand that she went to the best private hand-shaking schools in the Northwest. She’s grown-up, confident, and sure of her place in the world.
                  “Thank you for taking the time to do this.” She gives him a professional smile.
                  “It’s a pleasure,” he answers. Turning his gaze on me I go flush again.
                  “This is Ramiro Ramirez, our photographer,” I say. Ramiro smiles and licks his lips at me. He stops when he turns toward Shade.
                  “Mr. Shade,” he nods.
                  “Mr. Ramirez.” Shade’s expression changes too, as he looks at Ramiro.
                  “Mr. Shade.” Ramiro nods at him again.
                  “Mr. Ramirez,” Shade coolly answers, again.
                  “Mr. Shade—” I step in and prevent the back-and-forth from continuing.
                  “Where would